Media Storm Lockdown
by Splitmysoul
Summary: After Harry is hounded by the press he escapes the only way he can see how. Now, after a series of events he is locked down with Draco, avoiding the backlash of their earlier actions. With a jealous Ginny that is determined to keep Harry through blackmail and bullying Harry has no option to sit and wait the chaos out with his unintended companion Malfoy.
1. Chapter 1

Draco was knocked off-balance by a large, rather sturdy body being shoved into his. The crystal wine glass he was holding was thrown crashing to the floor as he and the large man shaped mass hurtled towards the wall Draco used to be standing in front of. The force of the impact sent the blonde's skull crashing into the bricks, knocking him dizzy.

Luckily for the pair the bar was dimly lit and they happened to be in the more secluded part, Draco's favourite, and they managed to regain their composure quickly with few witnesses. Annoyed Draco knocked the blond hair from his eyes and delicately stomped a heeled foot on the ground.

"And who exactly might you be?" the half angry tone started before he was interrupted by several flashes from the newly emerged screaming crowds.

"Mr Potter! Where have you been these past few weeks?" "Mr Potter! Mr Potter! Are the rumours true?" "Harry, Miss Weasley stated earlier you are engaged" "Mr Potter? Where have you been?" "Wedding-" "Ginny-" "kids-" The cries became too jumbled to decipher.

Through the platinum streaks the high class Slytherin only had time to see the pure panic in his once arch rival's eyes before he was pinned back against the wall and a pair of lips were pressed against his. Stubble rubbed his clean chin as he tried to free his wrists from the hands that encircled them.

The flashes from the crowd of reporters had stunned Draco, he didn't know what to do. Reporters were everywhere, his old rival had him pinned against a wall with a thorough kiss, he could still hear the shouted questions mentioning marriage, Ginny and kids and it was impairing his ability to think.

As suddenly as it started it was over. His captor released his, the scene was hectic and someone was pulling him by his suit sleeve. Following his arm to find his tormentor he saw Harry escaping through the back door dragging him along.

The cold air hit his face like a slap, the wind caught his hair and his body felt itself being compressed. With a large popping noise Draco found himself on the steps to a raggedy house. Once shoved inside the pair fell hard, Draco being unsure of his surroundings and being pushed in heels and Harry falling over the body already sprawled on the floor.

On closer inspection Potter had a black eye behind his thick rimmed glasses, a few scratches and Draco was bleeding from a piece of his shattered wine glass before the sudden onslaught began. Prodding his wound weakly Draco flicked the hair out of his face and tried to compose himself. Grey eyes met green as Draco let the simple command fall from his lips.

"Explain."


	2. Chapter 2

"What's there to explain?" Harry sighed. "Besides, I'm sure don't really care." With that he picked himself up and took his, what seemed to be battered, body down the hall and into the kitchen. Draco didn't know what to do. Draco didn't know where he was besides what was going on.

After the war Draco had worked hard to rebuild his reputation. He had been offered a new start, a new name, place, job, everything. He had refused the offer. For him it wasn't just getting away from the negative stigma of the war. He could stand the daily abuse that it brought with it. He wanted to keep the connections to his family and friends and redeem himself.

It wasn't just political either, he didn't do it to be looked upon with sympathy or awe. He did things quietly, never made front page, and was never even in the papers in fact. He was able to do the things he always wanted to do now he was free from the gaze of his father and what expected of him.

That was one of the reasons he was so shocked to suddenly meet Potter after all these years. And why he wouldn't stand for the boy wonder, childhood enemy yet a man he was so in awe of, assume he still had the same backwards views he was fed as a child.

"Potter. You will come back and YOU WILL EXPLAIN WHY I AM HERE." He had gone for stern but it had come across more panicked and scared. It certainly didn't help that the minute he had raised his voice a portrait had started screaming racial slurs at such a volume it tore open the curtains hiding it.

Draco hadn't heard such phrases since the heart of the war, each one aimed at muggles, half-bloods, muggleborns. The screeched voice bore into his skull, each one he had heard before as a child in his father's voice. Phrases he was taught, words that had caused war, death and destruction. Things he never wanted to see again. Words he had worked to rid himself of, each one he was fed, not knowing the impact of them until it was too late.

The wall of the thin corridor hit his back as he slunk away, sliding down the wall he let his pale blond hair obscure his view, almost hoping it would take it away. His clammy hands found each other around his knees as the onslaught continued.

Harry rushed back into the hall at the sound of the retched woman, fully expecting the Slytherin to be looking at her tirade in awe, perhaps even celebrating her presence. What he didn't expect was to find the socialite balled into a corner, hands shaking, eyes screwed shut and sniffling. Wrenching the curtains closed and telling the paintings occupant to firmly fuck off he redirected his attention to the shaking mass.

Instant regret filled him. He shouldn't have left him alone in a foreign house after quite literally abducting him from the safety of his shaded bar corner. Now he had the guilt that came with reducing the fully grown picture of elegance into a shaking ball of, what is that anyway? Regret? Frustration? But surely he wouldn't be tearing up out of frustration, Harry had never even seen him get flustered. Maybe he was sad. Scared? Surely the great Draco Malfoy wouldn't get sad.

Harry didn't even know what to do with sad people. He should at least try. Hermione usually did this stuff, usually he was the sad one. Bending down to scoop up the blond before him, who was fairly light given his height. Draco didn't respond to being picked up, neither did he respond to being carried down the hall.

As the blond was placed down the only sounds were harry padding around the kitchen and the slight muffled breaths of one Draco Malfoy. Then the clink of a steaming mug of tea being placed down. Pale Slytherin hands took the gift, his face morphing into a semblance of its usual composure. The stark difference between the two had never been more apparent. Even sitting there Draco avoided the gaze sent his way. A calm voice flowed through the air between them. An attempt at peace, at reassurance. All hate set aside.

"Draco, why don't you explain first?"


End file.
